Forbidden Read online

  “Uh, nothing. I didn’t hear you come in.” She stood up quickly, smiling at him. “So, are you hungry? I made dinner.”

  Owen stared at her, frowning. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright and guilty looking. What had she been reading? And why had she hidden it so quickly? “Must be some book,” he said, nodding at the cushions where she’d shoved it. “You looked like you were really into it.”

  “Oh that?” She laughed nervously, but he noticed she didn’t offer to show him the book. “No, it’s nothing. Just a book of legends Professor Dobrev gave me to read. So… Are you hungry?”

  “Sure.” Owen decided to let the matter drop—for now anyway. “You didn’t have to cook,” he said.

  “I didn’t, really. I just made a chef salad.” Leah put her hands behind her back and cupped her elbows, a habit she had when she was nervous. The motion pushed out her chest, and Owen had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from saying anything. She was wearing another one of his T-shirts—a very old and worn one, by the look of it. When she put her hands behind her back, the thin white cotton stretched tight, showing the outlines of a black lace bra underneath. The bra seemed to emphasize the full curves of her breasts. In fact, he swore he could see the hard points of her nipples pressing against the lacy material.

  Inwardly Owen groaned. Was she trying to kill him? Here he was, determined to resist his attraction to her, and then she went and wore something like this. God, what was he going to do?

  “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed another one of your T-shirts,” Leah said, obviously misinterpreting his look. “I, uh, packed all my nightclothes in the boxes that are being shipped. But I promise I’ll wash it before I give it back.”

  “Not a problem.” Owen shook his head, forcing himself to look elsewhere. Unfortunately his gaze traveled downward to the tight jean shorts she had on. When she shifted, he could have sworn the seam of the shorts was right between her soft little pussy lips. Or maybe that was just his sick imagination.

  “What do you have behind your back?” she asked, and he realized he’d been so distracted by Leah’s appearance that he’d forgotten the gift he’d picked up for her.

  “Here. These are for you,” he said, thrusting a bunch of red roses at her. “I’m sorry they’re not much. I picked them up at the gift shop at the end of my shift.” Now why had he told her that? But Leah was absolutely beaming at him.

  “They’re beautiful. And you remembered that roses are my favorite.”

  Actually he hadn’t. But there was no way he was going to admit that now. “I wanted to let you know I appreciate you,” he said gruffly. “And…I like having you here.”

  “I like being here too.” She looked like she wanted to hug him, but luckily her arms were full of the roses. Owen had a pretty good idea how he would have reacted to feeling the soft press of her breasts against his chest again, and the thin scrub pants he wore didn’t hide anything.

  “Well, anyway…” He cleared his throat, trying to cover his confusion. “You said something about a salad?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely! Why don’t you go change and get comfortable, and I’ll dish it out. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  “Okay, great.” He’d showered at the hospital, but changing into something besides scrubs sounded appealing. He slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt and came back to sit on the couch while Leah hummed contentedly in the kitchen. She seemed busy, and he was about to flick on the TV, when the corner of the book she’d been reading caught his eye. He pulled it out from between the couch cushions and opened it to the place it had been marked with a red silk bookmark.

  It didn’t take long for him to realize that the “legend” he was reading was practically soft-core porn. And the subject matter… “Incest,” he muttered to himself. “Angel incest. Damn.” Was Leah really just reading this because of her new professor, or was she doing some private project of her own? Did she know his dirty secret, how he felt about her? And had she decided to do some kind of weird research because of it? The thought made him feel light-headed with apprehension. Surely not. Maybe it really was just an academic assignment. But still…

  “Dinner’s ready.” Leah was suddenly standing in front of him. Owen found himself fumbling to put down the book as quickly as she had when he’d walked in on her reading it.

  “Uh, sorry,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “I was interested to see what you were reading.”

  “It’s sort of an assignment from my professor,” she said, her face going red. “She’s doing research on the mythology of angels through the ages.”

  “The one I was reading wasn’t exactly about angels. The one about the girl and…and her brother?” Owen didn’t know why he was baiting her. But he had to know what she’d been thinking when she read it.

  “Oh, that one?” Now it was Leah who wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I, uh, I really just skimmed it. I have to get through the entire book tonight so we can talk about it tomorrow when I see her again. So,” she went on brightly, “what kind of dressing do you want? I have ranch or a nice homemade honey mustard.”

  “Homemade sounds delicious,” Owen said, deciding to let it drop. After all, what did he hope to accomplish by pressing the matter? To make her admit the story was disgusting? Repulsive? Because what else could she say about it?

  “Great.” Leah turned, her long golden hair swinging with the motion, and preceded him into the kitchen and dining area. Owen tried not to notice her long bare legs or the way the jean shorts molded to her round bottom.

  He did want Leah back in his life, but he hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be. She was so gorgeous that he couldn’t help wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her here and now. But of course that was out of the question. Well, he told himself grimly, he would have to live with it. Anything was better than losing her again.

  “I hope you like sauvignon blanc,” Leah said, breaking into his chaotic thoughts. “I thought it would go with the salad.”

  “Sounds great.” He sat down opposite her at the tiny round table. It was tucked in the far corner of the kitchen area, and he’d never felt the need to buy anything bigger since he was usually the only one in the loft. Their knees brushed under it, and he shifted uncomfortably. “It was nice of you to make supper,” he said as she sat a large bowl of salad in front of him. There were apples and pears as well as slivers of almonds, ham, and turkey mixed in with the lettuce and tomato. “Looks delicious.”

  Leah blushed with evident pleasure. “I hope you like it. It always used to be one of your favorites. But it’s been so long…” She took a sip of her wine, but Owen knew what she’d been going to say.

  “So long since we talked about anything, huh?” he finished for her softly.

  Leah nodded. “But I know you’ve been busy. With med school and your residency…”

  “I shouldn’t have been too busy to keep up with you,” Owen said. “I don’t even know why you broke up with your fiancé and came down here in the first place.”

  “Oh, well…” Leah took a bite of her salad and a sip of wine, as though giving herself time to think. Finally she looked up. “James and I broke up because we disagreed about a lot of things. Mostly”—she bit her lip—“mostly sex.”

  “Oh?” Owen tried to keep his tone neutral, though the idea of Leah having sex with anyone—even her fiancé—made him feel sick with jealousy. “He was into the kinky stuff and you weren’t?” he asked casually.

  “Not exactly. More like he was into sex period, and I wasn’t.” Leah sighed and took another sip of wine. “It wasn’t his fault, though. I’ve never been into it. It just…feels wrong to me.”

  Owen felt as though a bolt of electricity had gone through him. The truth was, he had never derived much pleasure from sex either. He’d told himself it was because he could never manage to form a lasting connection with any of the women he went out with, but what Leah was saying was closer to the mark. It really did feel wrong. L